Completing the Fifth
by AnotherRustyKey
Summary: A continuation of the fifth grade for T.J. and the gang. Spinelli? Crying? Something big must have happened! Did she find out that Vince kissed Ashley A? Sympathy tears for Mrs. Finster after the goldfish bowl incident? Or something more serious?
1. Guy Fawkes Night

Disclaimer: I do not own Recess, if I did, there would have been more episodes to show the fifth grade.

A/N. This is my first story in a very long time, and my first Recess story ever. I live in England, so I'm going to apologise now if I have used the wrong words in some cases- is the word "fire cracker" the name of the small boxes of gunpowder that you light, and they light up the sky with bright colours? I'm not too sure, so I've called them fire crackers, apologies if it's the incorrect term. Thank you for reading!

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Hallowe'en was like a distant memory to the fifth graders as they sat in their class room that morning, not-so-eagerly awaiting the appearance of their teacher Mrs. Finster, even though, in reality, it had only been a few days previously. The clock kept on ticking, seconds passed, and then minutes, and then,

"She's late!" ten year old Gus Griswold shouted delightfully, jumping out of his seat, knocking his neatly aligned pencil and paper from his desk onto the floor.

"She is indeed late Gus," five foot three inches tall Gretchen Grundler replied, tapping the keys on her small portable computer, "And my calculations indicate that if she has not arrived within the next five minutes, due to the low levels of traffic this morning and the high improbability of her waking and rising late, then she probably isn't coming today."

At this, everybody leapt from their seats, cheering, until they heard footsteps approaching in the corridor next door. Each person held their breath, terrified that Mrs. Finster might be the next person to walk through the door. The door slid open and...

"Principal Prickly!" T.J. Detwiler happily exclaimed. Although T.J. was a renowned trouble maker, he was on much better terms with the principal than his class teacher. He had shared several bonding moments with the head of his school, the most recent being when he (the principal) had saved him from falling from the roof of his house before standing up to the entire board of education about the horrendous new conditions created for the students at the start of the year. On the whole, Principal Prickly, although he did hand out detentions and didn't always see eye-to-eye with T.J. and his pals, was an alright principal, and vastly preferable to Mrs Finster.

"Yes, yes, T.J., it is I. As I'm sure you have all noticed, Mrs. Finster isn't here today," Randall gasped in horror, and clapped his hands over his mouth, "She had a slight accident at home, and has to go to the hospital-"

"But will she be okay?" Randall Weems, class snitch, Mrs. Finster's faithful informant shouted out, a look of pure horror on his face.

"I assure you, she will be fine," Principal Prickly replied, and T.J. was sure he was trying to hide a smile. What had Mrs. Finster done? Was it funny? "However, I am here to inform you that due to the short notice we received of her absence, we do not have a substitute teacher lined up for you."

The class exchanged gleeful glances at this, and Ashley Spinelli (Spinelli if you don't want your teeth removed) shouted,

"So do we get the day off?" The class fell silent, watching their principal expectantly, holding their breath again. A free day off in Autumn to go and hang out in the park, building piles of leaves and jumping in them, before shakes and ice cream at Kelso's, topped off with a movie marathon? Yes please!

"No, Spinelli, you are not having a day off," the class groaned quietly, "You are going to be split up and distributed amongst the other classes."

The children all exchanged more looks, this time puzzled. This was not the done thing at 3rd Street School. Principal Prickly, the night before, had been talking to a head teacher from a school in Nottingham, in the United Kingdom. He thought it would be great to set up a partner school in England, especially in the place where Robin Hood was said to have lived. London was less than two hours away on the train, and the subject of student exchanges had already been breached, both parties in favour of it. By chance, Principal Prickly had thought to ask the head teacher at this primary school (which was kindergarten through to fifth grade, he gathered), Andrew Rigby what they did when a teacher was absent and no substitute teachers was available. Mr. Rigby had introduced the idea of splitting up the class into groups of two or three, and sending them off, with work, to other classrooms so the other teachers could keep an eye on them. At Mr. Rigby's school, there were several classes for each grade, so the kids sent to a class teaching the same grade could simply join in with their lessons, but for everybody else, some quite easy work was set. It was a simple, cost-effective way of solving the problem, and Principal Prickly took to it immediately, astounded that he had never thought of it himself.

Back in the present day, Gretchen Grundler's hand was held aloft, many of the other students conversing quietly, asking if they had heard correctly.

"What is it Gretchen?" he asked, mentally planning how to split up the class and who to send where.

"Sir, I think we were all wondering if we heard you correctly. We've never been split up and sent to different classes before in the absence of a substitute teacher."

"You did indeed hear me correctly Gretchen. It's a scheme that they use in England if a teacher is absent and no substitute teacher can make the appointment at such short notice. I was talking to a principal there, or as they call them, a head teacher, and he was telling me about it."

"You talk with teachers in England, sir?" T.J. asked, excitedly, as if he could sense what was coming.

"I do, T.J., and," he glanced dartingly around the room, before his face broke into a broad smile. He leaned forwards in his seat, and lowered his voice, causing everyone to lean forwards in order to hear him, "I am trying to set up an exchange program with his school. A group of you kids will go over to stay in England, and attend his school for a week or two, and he will send students over here to study," Once again, the class was gleeful, "Of course," He stood up to his full height, and raised his voice to its normal level, "Nothing is set in stone, so don't go around telling people what I've said, but it's a possibility, maybe next year."

"Oh man! England? Will we see lots of red phone boxes?" Vince LaSalle asked excitedly, causing, once again, the class to break into chatter.

"Attention!" Principal Prickly shouted over the class. Silence fell, "Time to split you all up. Let's see, we have kindergarten through to grade six, minus grade five, as your teacher isn't here, so that's six classes to split the," he did a quick head count of the class, "23 of you present between, so four per class, with three in one.. Gretchen, Gus, Mikey, Randall, will you please go to Mrs. Choke who teaches the Kindergarteners." Gretchen, Gus and Mikey Blumberg, the school poet, all exchanged looks, on the one hand happy, because the three of them were together, but on the other, unhappy because Randall was also present.

"But sir, what should we do for our project?" Gretchen asked, scared of missing a day of learning.

"Write me an account of how the fifth grade has been so far, draw a picture to illustrate it, write me a poem about autumn, and make a poster to advertise healthy eating," Principal Prickly replied, to much sighing and complaining of the class, "Okay, of you go kids, bye bye. All the Ashleys, minus Ashley Spinelli," Spinelli growled dangerously, Vince rested a hand on her shoulder to try to calm her, "You will go to Miss James, who teaches the first grade."

"Scandalous!" All the Ashleys exclaimed happily, packing their bags and smiling, as they walked, single file, out of the door. It was no secret that the Ashleys idolised Miss James for her astonishing collection of designer clothes, immaculate make-up, and her sophisticated but incredibly kind nature. She always looked out for the kids, standing up for the one who needed it, yet always managed to look her best, even after she got caught up in a massive paint fight that the first graders had once.

"Susie (A/N. Upside down girl for the sake of this story), Rachel (A/N. Swinger girl for the sake of this story), Sam and Dave," the diggers high-fived at being put in the same class, "You will go to Mr. Daniels in the second grade." The diggers looked delighted at this- Mr. Daniels had campaigned to Principal Prickly for the boys to be allowed to dig in the school ground, as long as they didn't take up too much space, when they themselves had been in the second grade. The four of them left the room, and headed off to the second grade class room.

"Vince, Harry (A/N. Hustler Kid for the sake of this story), Butch and Lisa, you will go to Mr. Collins in the third grade," there was some groaning at this. Mr. Collins was a nice enough man, but always spoke in a monotone, and regularly sent members of his class to sleep in lesson time. With a sigh, the four set off down the corridor to join the third graders.

T.J. and Spinelli crossed their fingers in the air; eyes squeezed tight shut, whispering "please, please, please, please". Both want to be sent to Miss Grotke's class. She was the fourth grade teacher who had taught them the previous year, and every member of the class harboured a soft spot for her. She was kind, funny, and had a tendency to think outside the box.

"Luke, Courtney, T.J., Spinelli," T.J. and Spinelli opened their eyes wide, "You'll go to Miss Grotke in the fourth grade."

"YES!" T.J. leapt out of his seat, sending his desk flying as he jumped up to celebrate the fact that he and Spinelli had been sent back to their favourite teacher. On his left, Spinelli was doing a crazy sort of war dance at the good news. They each picked up their bags before walking out the room, breaking into an excited chatter. Courtney had short black hair, and wore a red t-shirt, with baggy black jeans. She smiled at T.J.,

"I can't believe we were lucky enough to get sent back to Miss Grotke!" It was Spinelli that answered her,

"I know! Isn't it awesome? I love Miss Grotke!"

"Me too!" Luke agreed, smoothing his blonde hair back against his head. They reached the door of the fourth grade class room. T.J. knocked on the door, and Miss Grotke's voice floated out to meet them.

"Come on in!"

As the four fifth graders entered the room, every fourth grader's eye was on them.

"Ah yes, class, say hello to your new temporary classmates!"Miss Grotke said warmly, looking around at her class.

"Have you guys been demoted to the fourth grade?" asked a girl with long, ginger hair, wearing a lime green shirt, sneering slightly.

"No, we haven't, but your teeth could be demoted from your face!" Spinelli snapped, rolling up her sleeves, glaring at the girl foolish enough to ask. The girl in question cowered down in her seat with crimson cheeks.

"There are some seats available at the back," Sure enough, in the back left hand corner of room were four seats available. T.J. and Spinelli took the two seats in the second to last row, leaving Courtney and Luke to take the seats behind them.

"Have you been set any work to complete?" Miss Grotke asked the fifth graders. Courtney started to say "yes" before T.J. cut across her,

"No ma'am, no work has been set. Principal Prickly said we should just join in with your class." Spinelli nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

"Really?" Miss Grotke asked, in surprised, "Principal Prickly said he would be setting you all work to do..." She raised an eyebrow at them.

"No Miss Grotke, he must have forgotten." Courtney replied sweetly.

"Well... Okay," Miss Grotke didn't look as though she completely accepted this, but didn't want to delay the class' learning any longer, so continued anyway, "today, class, we are going to be look at a celebration that the British have every year on November the fifth, does anybody know what it is?"

T.J. and Spinelli looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. One boy in the front row put up his hand.

"Yes, Rory?"

"Is it Guy Fawkes night?" the boy asked nervously.

"Very good Rory! Yes, the British celebrate Guy Fawkes night every November fifth, which is what we're going to be looking at today."

_This is gonna be such a sweet day! I kinda feel sorry for the other guys though._

Spinelli smiled at the note, giving T.J. double thumbs up.

"Now," Miss Grotke sat on her desk, crossing her legs, settling into story telling mode, "Guy Fawkes was an evil man who detested the English government back in the day, in fact, he hated the government so much that he designed a plot to blow up the houses of Parliament," there was a collective gasp at this point, "Fortunately it was discovered in time, and the building wasn't blown up, but that's what he intended to do. He intended to blow up the houses of Parliament using a lot of gunpowder," Spinelli looked impressed, but most other students looked horrified, "When they found out about his plot, he was burnt to death, which is why on Guy Fawkes night, British people build bonfires, and models that they call a 'Guy' to burn on the top. They also let off fire crackers, or as they call them, fireworks," The class let out impressed sounds, like "ooooh".

"So on Friday, after school, you must get your parent's permission, but we are planning to have a school bonfire, to promote inter-cultural relations!"

More chatter broke out at this.

"AWESOME!" Spinelli shouted, grinning from ear to ear, as she turned to T.J., who was similarly happy, "We HAVE to go! I want to watch the Guy burn!"

"Of course! And we have to let the others know too!"

"Okay, settle down kids, our main project for today is to build the Guy for the top of the bonfire- does that sound like a fun project to everybody?"

"Yes Miss Grotke." The class chorused as one. What kid in their right mind would give up an opportunity like that?

Miss Grotke produced all the materials needed, and that class made a hasty start, but all too soon (and T.J. thought he would never think that Recess could come too soon) the bell rang to signal the start of recess. The kids all put down their materials and headed out to the playground. T.J. quickly located his friends over by the cheese box, so he and Spinelli headed over.

"Hey, where did you two end up?" Vince asked, determinedly glum, having had a non-too-thrilling morning.

"We ended up in Miss Grotke's class, and listen!" T.J. filled the gang in on everything that had happened that morning, with Spinelli occasionally jumping in to supply details T.J. had forgotten.

"So, what do you think?" Spinelli asked, a broad smile on her face.

"I wonder if there is a link between Principal Prickly talking to an English school teacher and Miss Grotke teaching her grade about Guy Fawkes Night," Gretchen said thoughtfully, once again taking out her handheld computer and tapping bits of data in, "Taking into account Miss Grotke's tendency to think outside the box, and also her tendency to promote inter-racial and foreign awareness, and also Principal Prickly's tendency to brag about a good idea, and also the probability that he chose to brag to Miss Grotke about his exchange plan, then I believe the odds are approximately 62% that he DID tell her, and so she is slowly introducing her class to the idea of exchange visits."

"How the heck does that tiny computer process all that information?" Spinelli asked, incredulously, "If I was a computer, it would make my head explode!"

"What we actually meant was 'is everybody going to come on Friday night?'" T.J. interrupted.

"Count me in!" shouted Vince, much more enthusiastically than he had greeted his friends ten minutes ago.

"And me! Oh boy, dad lived in England for a while and he told me about Guy Fawkes night, and I was so jealous! It sounds great!" Gus joined in, "I can't wait!"

"Nor can I. A burning flame, a torched name, colours in the sky, what a pretty night for my eyes," Typically, Mikey replied in verse.

"What about you Gretchen?" T.J. asked.

"I too would very much enjoy this event. My question is, are we allowed to bring family members with us?"

T.J. and Spinelli both shrugged their shoulders.

"She didn't say, but I'm sure they would be allowed too. We'll check."

The rest of break was spent cavorting on Old Rusty, being careful not to disturb King Freddie, who was sitting at the top. Freddie had only been King for a couple of months, but had gained the reputation of giving harsh (not to mention weird) punishments for the slightest thing.

The bell rang, prompting the kids to drift back in to school. Gretchen, Gus and Mikey said goodbye first in the corridor, then Vince, then just T.J. and Spinelli were left walking to the fourth grade classroom. They walked back in to find the class in flow, the younger students all building the guy. On Miss Grotke's desk was a pile of black paper, numerous packets of colourful chalk, and some photographs of skies illuminated by firecrackers. T.J. thought back to the time when Spinelli had created an absolute masterpiece on the playground using chalk, then made a mental note to watch Spinelli very carefully, to make sure she didn't smuggle any chalk out with her.

"Welcome back class!" Miss Grotke arrived back at class later than most of her pupils, "For those of you wanting to continue building the guy you are more than welcome to, for those of you wanting to try something different, you can take a photograph of Guy Fawkes night, a sheet of black paper with some chalk, and create your own picture of Guy Fawkes night, to be displayed during our bonfire party on Friday!"

"Shall we go for Guy building or chalking?" T.J. asked Spinelli

"Let's go for chalking," Spinelli said with a large grin. She caught the sight of T.J.'s face, and hurriedly said, "Teej, I'm not going to take any chalk outside with me, I just miss the smell a little bit, and the texture of it under my fingers..." She stared off into space with a dreamy look on her face. T.J. clicked his fingers in front of her face to snap her out of her reverie, before walking up to the front of the room to gather materials.

"Miss Grotke?" he asked. Miss Grotke turned to smile at him.

"What is it T.J.? Are you alright?"

"Yes Miss Grotke I'm fine, we were just wondering whether friends and family are invited to the bonfire party on Friday night."

"Ah, what an excellent question T.J.," Miss Grotke raised her voice, "Of course, friends and family are more than welcome to attend, bring anybody that wants to come!"

The next few days passed without great incident. Some chalk drawings had appeared on the playground, but T.J. chose to ignore them, and Spinelli didn't have a permanently dreamy look on her face, so T.J. came to the conclusion that either it wasn't Spinelli responsible for the drawings, or she had got her addiction under control. Mrs. Finster returned after two days off 'sick' but refused to tell anybody why she was off. The rumour was that she had fallen down the stairs in her house and landed with her head in the goldfish bowl, which had promptly become stuck to her head. This was just a rumour, but Gus swore that he saw her glaring at the goldfish bowl in their classroom more than usual.

Friday night rolled around, bringing a haze of excitement with it. The bonfire party had been announced in an assembly the day after Miss Grotke had introduced the idea to her class. Pupils were told that they were welcome to bring sparklers (A/N. I'm not sure if this is a British term. Sparklers are the small sticks you hold in your hands and light, which then create sparks. They're really popular with younger children), and if parents wanted to contribute fire wood or fire crackers then they were more than welcome to. There would be "traditional" Guy Fawkes food ("What, gunpowder?" Spinelli had asked) and a huge firecrackers display.

At six p.m., T.J. and Spinelli were en route to school together, flanked by parents. T.J.'s sister Becky was at a slumber party with some girlfriends, but T.J. doubted she would have come even if she wasn't. Spinelli's parents, Bob and Flo were chatting to T.J.'s parents, confirming that they WERE B.J.'s parents, and did they know that Spinelli had a crush on their son? And did they know that they had kissed, as nosy Flo had found out when she found Spinelli's diary.

"MOM!" T.J. had never seen Spinelli so angry. The tray of chocolate covered apples jolted, dangerously close to spilling its load as she turned around to face her parents, "For a start, you shouldn't talk about me like that! For a finish, especially not when I am well within hearing range!" with that she stomped off, leaving her parents exchanging a worried look, but holding her tray surprisingly steadily. T.J. sighed heavily, before following her at a fast pace, to ascertain that she would be alright. He too had a tray of chocolate covered apples, all lovingly prepared by his own mother, whom rarely embarrassed him in front of his peers. Spinelli's parents did seem to embarrass their daughter an awful lot.

"Spinelli!" he shouted as he drew closer to the short girl, a large red and orange striped scarf and red gloves accessorising her usual outfit, "hey, wait up! It's just me!"

Spinelli slowed slightly, to allow T.J. to catch up.

"I KNEW I shouldn't have told them about tonight!" she said angrily, narrowing her eyes and casting a look over her shoulder at the four parents in the distance. They had really stormed ahead, so far, in fact, that they were nearly at the school, "I just KNEW they'd embarrass me! WHY did my mom find my diary? That's a total invasion of my privacy!"

"You know," T.J. said with a slight smirk, "I didn't have you down as a diary girl." Spinelli glared at him and stomped her feet as noisily as she could on the concrete. T.J. took this to mean that should he continue to irritate her, he would find her boots aimed at parts of his anatomy that should never be aimed at, "Sorry, Spin. You know I don't want to upset, you I'm just trying to make light of the situation. For all we know, my parents are now telling your parents lots of embarrassing things about me."

"Pfft, yeah right, T.J., I doubt that there is anything at all embarrassing about you, you're much too cool!" Spinelli rolled her eyes heavily.

"Det-loser? Cool? Spinelli, you are losing your touch!" T.J. and Spinelli whipped around to find Lawson standing behind them, "Ooh!" he caught sight of the tray of chocolate apples they were carrying, "can I have a chocolate apple?"

"That depends," Spinelli narrowed her eyes once again, "Is T.J. really called 'Det-Loser'? And am I really losing my touch?"

"Nah, course not, I'm just joking," Lawson said with a smile, as T.J, removed the covering from his tray of chocolate apples, "Are you guys here alone?"

"No, unfortunately, our parents are up there," Spinelli nodded her head to indicate further up the road, "are you?"

"No, my mom insisted on coming along, even though I told her I'm not a baby and can come by myself. I should go and find her, thanks for the apple, it rocks, later!" with that, he sloped off down the street, out of sight.

"You know, I really don't get Lawson. One minute he's being a jerk, making fun of us, and then the next, it's like he's our friend!" T.J. voiced his confusion.

"I know, it's a bit odd, but let's hurry up, I see the parents are gaining on us!" T.J. quickly covered the chocolate apples over with cling film again, and the two ten year olds took off at a slight jog, careful to keep the trays relatively steady.

"So, T.J., I refuse to believe that there is one embarrassing thing about you. Care to prove otherwise?" Spinelli asked, raising one eyebrow as she voice the challenge.

"That depends on whether you would tell anybody the embarrassing thing after I told you." T.J. replied, very seriously, looking at her with a completely straight face.

"Of course I won't Teej! You can trust me! It just might make me feel a little better if I realise that I'm not the only person in the world that ever feels embarrassed."

"Oh come on Spinelli, you know you're not the only person that ever feels embarrassed! Why would you think that?" he asked seriously, as they slowed to a walk, turning onto the street the school was on.

"Well, how come I'm the only one whose parents reveal embarrassing stuff about to their friends, I'm the only one to have had a crush on someone, I'm the one that called a teacher 'Mommy' by accident?" Spinelli's cheeks flushed even at the thought.

"Well... You're not the only person to have a crush on someone! Remember Mikey had that music teacher, who turned out to be engaged? He sang that song about nobody knowing the troubles he had seen, when he was meant to sing the national anthem?" Spinelli cast her thoughts backwards.

"Okay, Mikey has had a crush too, but Mikey is the big poetic one, he believes in love and romance and stuff, and none of you guys do! I feel like a freak.." she trailed off here, and T.J. could see that his was something that had been bothering her for a while.

"Well... Er... Vince has a crush on someone too!" T.J. knew that this would reassure her, as Vince was the epitome of cool. If he had a crush on someone, then it was bound to be okay.

"Really? Who does Vince have a crush on?" Spinelli asked with great interest, amazed that this had been kept secret.

"Err..." T.J. was trying to think on his feet, trying to fabricate a believable lie out of thin air, "Ashley A." Darn. That was a stupid thing to say. Spinelli burst out laughing.

"Vince and Ashley A? No way man! Serious?" She was laughing so hard as they turned into Third Street School, that she almost over turned her tray of chocolate apples. Vince was stood near old Rusty by himself, a black jacket over his usual vest, and a grey scarf tight around his neck. He smiled broadly as his friends approached.

"Hey guys! You made it! I was beginning to wonder if you were gonna show!" the two were still smirking, "what's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing Vince, it's just good to know that you're one of the club too," Spinelli winked at him.

"What club? What are you guys talking about?" Vince asked, incredibly confused.

"Nothing, nothing, let's go and put our food over there on the food table Spinelli!" T.J. led the way over to the food table laden down with jacket potatoes, mushy peas, other candied apples, and various other delicious looking snacks. They uncovered their trays in silence until,

"Spinelli, you cannot tell Vince that I told you that he likes Ashley A!" T.J. said, looking around for anybody who might be listening in, "I'm not supposed to know!"

"What?!" Spinelli spluttered with laughter, "Then how did you find out, if you're not meant to?"

"Err... I walked in on them kissing!" Vince was going to kill him for this, if he ever found out, and Ashley A was bound to unleash her full Ashley power and have him moisturised to within an inch of his life.

"No way! Vince and Ashley A KISSING?!" Spinelli's eyes were wide open now. T.J. looked around hurriedly.

"Yes, but sssh! Keep it quiet! It's a secret! I shouldn't know!" Why was he digging this hole? Someone was bound to find out he's said it, and then he would be in deep trouble. Why not just get out now? Come on, tell Spinelli the truth! All of this just so that she wouldn't feel embarrassed about liking someone.

The two headed off to Vince, who had now been joined by Gretchen and her mother, who were wearing matching navy scarves and hats.

Underneath the table, hidden from view by the table cloth, Randall sat in silent ecstasy; eyes open wide, a maniacal grin on his face. Vince and Ashley A? No way! This was too good! And T.J. spying on his friend to find out! So much gossip! How could he use this to his advantage? Hmm... He heard his father shouting his name, so crawled out from underneath the table and went to join him in spying on parents.

Half an hour later, all of our six heroes had arrived with various parents in tow. The kids were sat on top of the monkey bars, chattering and eating candy apples as they watched the bonfire burn in the centre of the Box. Vince finished his first, and headed off to the refreshment table to get more, after asking if anybody else wanted anything. Everybody said no, so he held on tight, swung down so his legs were dangling before dropping to the floor below. He glanced over at the parents. They were sat in a huddle on a bunch of chairs provided by the school, all except for Mr Griswold, who was patrolling the edge of the fire, making sure it wasn't dangerous for the kids to walk around. He reached the refreshments table at the same time as Ashley A, surprisingly without the other three Ashleys in tow.

"Like, hi Vince! How's it going?" Ashley A asked, smiling broadly at Vince, leaning forwards to pick up a chocolate apple from the back of the table. In the process of doing this, her fluffy pink scarf trailed into a large vat of mushy peas, and she squealed, before Vince had a chance to answer, "Oh no! This is my favourite scarf! How could I get it dirty?" She wailed, looking down at the damage. Her scarf had a glistening trail of mushy peas down it.

"Here, pass it here," Vince held out his hand. He knew Ashley A wouldn't clean it herself, so he took it from her, and swept the mushy peas from her scarf onto the floor, "There you go, good as new!"

"But now it's got a green stain on it!" Ashley A was almost hysterical by this point.

"It's okay, I'll just go and rinse it in the sink for you. Do you want my scarf in the mean time?" he asked, unwrapping his own grey scarf.

"Vince, you are so kind! My hero!" Ashley A practically swooned, as she wrapped the grey scarf around her neck, as Vince headed off to the boys bathroom.

In the bathroom, Vince had the misfortune to walk into Randall.

"Ah, Vince! Washing your girlfriend's scarf I see!" Randall said, a mischievous smile plastered on his face.

"What?" Vince asked, confused, "Ashley A is not my girlfriend!"

"Really?" Randall asked with mock surprise, "Maybe you should tell your friends T.J. and Spinelli that. They seem to be under the impression that you and Ashley A were caught kissing each other."

"WHAT? No way! I've never kissed Ashley A! What in the heck are those guys talking about?"

"I don't know man, I was just going to congratulate you on your relationship, but if it's not actually happened, then I guess not."

"Randall, what were they saying?" Vince asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"What was who saying, Vince?"

"T.J. and Spinelli?" he asked, exasperated. How could anybody be that thick?

"Oh, nothing much, just T.J. was telling Spinelli that she shouldn't tell you that he told her that he saw you and Ashley A kissing," Vince took a second to follow all the he said she said business, before realising what had happened.

"But why would T.J. say something like that? Randall, there is nothing going on with me and Ashley A!" he said, shaking his fists in emphasis, fluttering the scarf in the process.

"Then why are you washing her scarf for her?" Randall asked, smirking again.

"Because she draped it in peas! She wouldn't rinse it herself, so I offered to do it for her!"

"If you say so man.." with that Randall threw the paper towel he had been drying his hands on into the bin, before walking out. Vince looked down at the scarf in his hand and thought to himself. Why was he washing Ashley A's scarf for her? He wouldn't do that for just anybody. It was just because he felt guilty because she was talking to him and so was distracted that she draped her scarf in the peas. It was his fault it happened, which is why he felt responsible for the cleaning of the scarf. But was that all?

Unbeknown to both Vince and Randall, sat in one of the stalls was Tyler A, a gleeful smile on his face. His sister had an admirer! Or possibly a boyfriend! This was, at the risk of sounding like his dear older sister, scandalous, and must be told to everybody.

Back outside, the bonfire was roaring. The gang minus Vince were still sat on the monkey bars, watching Principal Prickly and Mr. Griswold set up fireworks around the playground.

"I wonder where Vince has got to," Gus wondered aloud, "He's been gone an awfully long time. I can't even see him now."

"Relax Gus, he probably just went to the bathroom!" Spinelli called over to him. She was sat furthest away from Gus and had to shout slightly in order for him to hear her.

"Unless I am very much mistaken," Gretchen began, a hint of confusion in her voice, "Ashley A is wearing Vince's scarf!" The gang all started looking around for the Ashleys, to see whether Gretchen was telling the truth. She was, they decided. There was no way that Ashley A would accessorise her pink and black outfit with a grey scarf, in fact, Gretchen was positive she had been seen wearing a pink fluffy scarf just a few minutes previously.

As if to confirm their suspicions, Vince then emerged from the doors to the school, holding Ashley A's fluffy pink scarf in his hands. They watched as he walked up to her, and spoke to her. She hugged him and spoke to him briefly, the other Ashleys watching keenly, as Tyler A, Ashley A's little brother ran up to the group and announced something. Both Vince and Ashley A were shaking their heads vehemently, obviously denying something. Unnoticed because of the show put on by the Ashleys, Tyler A and Vince, Randall climbed up onto the monkey bars with them. He sat next to Spinelli and leaned forwards to attract hers and T.J.'s attention.

"So, T.J., how do you think Vince is going to feel, knowing that you told Spinelli that he and Ashley A were boyfriend and girlfriend?" Randall asked slyly, narrowing his eyes at them.

"What?" T.J. looked panic-stricken, "How did you know that?!"

"Oh, I have my sources," Randall said, rubbing his hands together, "My question is, will Vince still want to be your friend?"

"Of course he will! It was just a joke! Of course he's not really seeing Ashley A!" T.J. burst out.

"What?!" Spinelli shouted, "He DOESN'T like Ashley A?!"

"Errr... I think I hear my mom calling, got to go!" T.J. shouted, swinging down from the monkey bars and running towards his mother.

"So Spinelli," Randall now turned to Spinelli, a murderous look on her face. If looks could kill, he'd be twelve feet under by now (six for the drop from the monkey bars, another six underground), "How does it feel knowing that T.J. lied to you?" Ooh he was in such a stirring mood today.

"He only said that to make me feel better because I liked somebody. He wasn't lying maliciously, it was a white lie."

"A white lie that caused one of your best friends not to talk to you? Hmm. I'm sure Vince would like to know that." Randall started back the way he came.

"Randall, if you utter one word of this to Vince, I swear to wrestling, you will never walk again!"

Randall gulped, and resolved not to tell Vince, as he slid down the frame at the end of the monkey bars, to see what was happening with Vince and Ashley A.

Ashley A was utterly confused. Vince had rinsed her scarf, and was returning it to her, for which she hugged him, and then her younger brother Tyler had run up to their little group and announced "Ashley A is Vince LaSalle's girlfriend!" Understandably, this had caused great confusion amongst the group. It was quite ironic, Vince thought, that this supposed revelation that actually WAS scandalous didn't earn a chorus of it from the girls who had adopted it as their motto. As it was, this "revelation" was entirely fictitious, so both she and Vince denied it, until Tyler A decided to stir things further,

"That's not what Vince said to Randall in the bathroom!" He said smugly.

"What? Tyler A, you were in the bathroom eavesdropping on me and Randall?" Vince asked, furious, "What kind of sneak does that?" Tyler continued as if Vince had not interrupted.

"You told Randall that you and my sister were an item!"

"Total lies! I did not tell Randall that Ashley A and I were boyfriend and girlfriend," Vince looked around for Randall. The little sneak owed him. Fortunately, Randall was heading over in their direction, "Randall! Tyler A has been taking a leaf out of your book and spying on people again!" Vince thought back to the time last year when the Ashley's younger brothers had formed the League of Tylers, and become informants for Randall, "He overheard what we were saying in the bathroom! I did NOT say that Ashley A was my girlfriend, did I?" he asked, glaring furiously at Randall, who was looking alternately at Vince and then Tyler A. Vince was shaking his head, eyes narrowed, Tyler A nodding his head, eyes wide. Hmm.. Vince or Tyler, Vince or Tyler. The Tylers had been good informants to him, so Tyler it was.

"Yep, he said that Ashley A was his girlfriend!" He cracked his nasty smile again.

"Total baloney! Ashley A, please believe me." Vince cried.

Ashley A looked from her brother, to Randall, to Vince. Her brother did like to pull pranks, especially on her, and Randall was not exactly a trustworthy source of information. Vince was just another kid in her class, nice enough guy, there was no reason not to believe him.

"Vince, will you take a walk with me please?" Ashley A asked, flashing a dazzling smile, throwing her curtain of blonde hair over her shoulder. She scowled at Randall and Tyler, "I'll talk to you later Tyler. Randall, get lost!" The other Ashleys all exchanged excited glances. Was Ashley A about to get a boyfriend? Was she about to be arrested for assault? They watched Vince and Ashley A as they walked away, before breaking into excited chatter.

Back at Old Rusty, Gretchen, Mikey and Gus were having their own conversation. Spinelli had disappeared shortly after Randall, and was now chatting to T.J. and his mom. Randall was standing near the Ashleys and the Tylers, and Vince and Ashley A could be seen walking quite alone by the edge of the school. Something strange was going on.

"Do you get the feeling that those guys aren't telling us something?" Gus asked, a slight frown on his face.

"You know Gus, I think there may be a secret within our group. Vince seems oddly detached from us tonight, and T.J. and Spinelli seem to have formed their own unit." Gretchen, a thoughtful expression on her face, hypothesised.

"I think they're all in love," Mikey interjected. The look on his friends faces told him he needed to expand on his theory, "Vince has a crush on Ashley A, I think Randall found out somehow, and is stirring over there, so they've gone off to talk privately," He indicated the retreating Ashley A and Vince's backs, "T.J. and Spinelli both know this, but in order to avoid causing embarrassment to Vince, have agreed not to tell us, as he may not want everybody to know yet." Mikey had no idea how close he was to the actual truth. Gus, on the other hand, burst out laughing.

"Yeah right Mikey! No offence, but there's no way in heck that's what's happening. We don't like girls yet!" He wiped a tear of laughter from his eye.

"Perhaps we don't like girls yet, but we know Spinelli likes boys, so maybe Vince likes girls."

"It's quite a reasonable hypothesis," Gretchen said, straightening her glasses, "But why would Vince want those guys to know and not us?"

"I do not know Gretchen, it is all a mysterious, as is the way of love!" Mikey finished, a soppy smile on his face.

"No way, there is no way that Vince likes girls!" Gus said, folding his arms resolutely.

"So Vince, I like totally get that I shouldn't always trust my brother, and that I should never trust Randall, so like, what actually happened in the bathroom?" Ashley A asked, trying to keep her likes to a minimum, but failing miserably.

"Well," Vince recalled the entire story quickly, without giving Ashley A the chance to interrupt. When he finished, Ashley A burst into giggles.

"It sounds to me like T.J. might like like somebody so he's trying to pass it off as you like liking somebody so he doesn't have to tell Spinelli who it is he likes!" she giggled. Vince was astounded at how quickly she came to this conclusion, but he had to admit it made sense.

"Okay," he said, incredibly relieved that she had seen reason so easily, "So we're cool?" he asked.

"Of course we are, silly, you haven't done anything wrong! In fact, you cleaned my scarf for me and let me wear yours! How could I be mad?" She smiled prettily at him as the first firecracker exploded in the sky, "Happy Guy Fawkes night, Vince."

"I think it was actually Guy Fawkes night on the fifth, but," he was cut off as Ashley A kissed him, very briefly, on the lips. Vince's eyes widened at first, but then shut. Well, this had done it. Now he really DID like Ashley A. She pulled away and they both literally saw fireworks. They smiled at each other, before heading their different ways, Ashley heading back to join her fellow Ashleys, and Vince to join the gang on the jungle gym.

_Guy Fawkes Night is an alright night, _Vince thought with a smile, making a mental note to thank T.J., Spinelli, Randall and Tyler A for their interference.


	2. Tears of a Spinelli

A/N: Thank you again for reading! This chapter is a little less happy than the last one, but it won't last- the next chapters will be happier! Sorry for the delay, I'll try to get chapters up more quickly in the future!

* * *

As November progressed, the days too grew progressively colder. It became necessary to wear big jackets, scarves, hats and gloves every day. The rain fell and the wind blew bitterly, prompting many choruses of "November Rain" from the various staff members. It was on a particularly rainy Thursday that the next chapter of our story starts to unfold.

The members of the fifth grade class at Third Street school all filed in, removing jackets and other outdoor clothing, shaking umbrellas to rid them of excess water. They all sat in their designated seats, but one seat was left empty.

"Hey, Teej," Gus leant forwards in his chair to tap T.J., Detwiler, who was sat in the seat in front, "Where's Spinelli today?" T.J. swivelled to look at the empty seat on his right.

"I don't know Gus. I just assumed she was here," he turned to look at the other members of his friendship group, "Do any of you guys know where Spinelli is?"

"Well, class hasn't started yet Teej," Vince reasoned, "She may just be running late, this is rotten weather after all. She may have been waiting for the rain to stop."

"Then she's gonna be waiting a long time.." T.J. hypothesised, as he turned back to face the front in time to watch their teacher Mrs. Finster walk in.

"Okay class, today we're starting with a math pop quiz. Randall, hand out these papers," she handed a pile of papers to her faithful stooge Randall Weems which he delightedly dropped on each pupils desk, somewhat enjoying the look of disappointment each child was wearing. Each child pulled out a pencil, grumbling slightly, cursing their bad luck at the day in general.

Vince looked down at his question paper and sighed inwardly. He couldn't even do the first question, so what were the chances that he could do any of the others? He flipped the paper over casually, but was greeted with more mathematical nonsense that he knew he couldn't solve, so he gave up. He rested his head on his arms, and looked to his right. Next to him sat Ashley Q, furiously scribbling away on her own pop quiz. Clearly she had been paying attention in math class, not staring constantly and the blonde-headed beauty sat in front of her as he, Vince, had. Ashley A. They had hardly spoken since the Guy Fawkes Party, but Vince thought he had caught Ashley A watching him when she thought nobody else was watching. All of this was confusing. Did he like Ashley A? Yes. He was now pretty sure that he did. This was an all consuming crush. Whenever T.J. cracked a joke in class, he would glance over to see if Ashley A was laughing. If Mrs. Finster announced a nasty assignment or test coming up, he would look over at Ashley A, wondering what she thought of it. He couldn't believe how much time he spent looking at her these days.

His attention was drawn from Ashley A, however, as another Ashley slid into the room, her eyes were watery, she had deep bags under her eyes, and looked as if she hadn't slept. This must be serious- Spinelli NEVER cried. Vince sat up and watched as Mrs. Finster noticed the late arrival.

"Spinelli! What time do you call this?" she barked, eyeing Spinelli up and down, but her facial expression softened when her eyes reached Spinelli's face. Spinelli was a tough kid, the kind that didn't cry for nothing, so something major must be wrong, "Are you alright, Spinelli?" She asked, changing tack. Everybody in the class was now watching Spinelli as she took her seat, promptly burying her head in her arms, adopting a similar position to the one Vince himself had only recently vacated. Her shoulders shuddered, yet she said nothing.

Ashley A was the first to move. She rooted around in her bag, until she found what she was looking for. She produced a small pack of tissues, and leant across the aisle to press them into Spinelli's one visible hand.

"Spinelli?" Ashley A asked tentatively, "Spinelli, what's wrong?" then, perhaps the most unexpected thing, Ashley A slid out of her seat and wrapped her left arm around Spinelli. To continue this trend of unusual behaviour, Spinelli gave in at Ashley A's kindness, and rested her head on Ashley A's shoulder, wrapped her arms around her, and started howling out loud.

"It's my grandpops!" she wailed, her words barely discernable between sobs, "He's really sick," more tears poured down her face. There were murmurs around the room, condolences whispered barely loud enough to be heard, "they found out that he has lung cancer." More tears streamed down her cheeks, her shoulders shuddering, as Ashley A held her tight, rocking her slightly. T.J. leapt out of his seat to take Spinelli's other side, the effect being that Spinelli was sandwiched between T.J. and Ashley A, both of whom were hugging her hard.

"I am, like, so sorry Spinelli," Ashley A always reverted back to her over-use of the word 'like' when she was uncomfortable, "I know we, like, don't get along very well, but I want you to know that I really hope that your grandpops makes a full recovery, and that you will, like, be alright," There was fervent nodding up and down the room as people agreed.

"But he won't be, Ashley," Spinelli cried, furious at herself for being so upset in front of everybody, especially the Ashleys, "his cancer is terminal. They say he probably only has a few days." Then she absolutely broke down, sadness tugging at her heart. Her eyes were burning and she couldn't see. She had spent the last eight hours crying. She hadn't wanted to go to school, but her parents had insisted it would be best for her to throw herself into her ordinary daily activities, but how could she concentrate when her grandpops was dying? She somewhat suspected that the real reason she had been banished from the hospital was that her dad wouldn't be able to hold his tears in any longer, and her parents didn't want her to see them crying. Her chest felt tight, constricted, as the tears continued to fall. She was vaguely aware of Ashley A, T.J., and somebody else all enveloping her in a massive hug. She didn't always see eye-to-eye with the Ashleys, but Ashley A was being lovely right now.

"Oh Spinelli..." T.J. sighed unhappily. He remembered this feeling. Two years ago, his great aunt, of whom he had been very fond, had passed away after a prolonged illness, that he believed was cancer of some sort. He remembered the heart clenching feeling, the negative thoughts, and the irrepressible feeling of loss, "Let it all out, we're all here for you, you know."

"Spinelli," Mrs. Finster spoke in a soft tone that nobody had heard her use before, "If you wish to be excused for the day to gather your thoughts, I will completely understand, and write you a pass." Still sobbing, Spinelli replied,

"Thank you, Mrs. Finster, but can I take somebody with me please?" she knew she was pushing her luck slightly, but she had a special bond with Muriel Finster, and she hoped that this would pay off now. Mrs. Finster appeared to be thinking over this proposition, but the sight of her secret favourite student's face covered in tears answer the question for her.

"Sure thing, Spinelli, you want a pass for T.J. too?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Finster." She replied, but the end of her speech was broken by sobs.

"Give my condolences to ma and pa from me please," Mrs. Finster said in a solemn tone as she passed the notes to T.J. As Spinelli walked to the front of the class, many of her classmates got up to pat her back, or squeeze her hand, and offer her condolences. Although Spinelli knew this was a kind gesture, she didn't feel at all comforted by it. Saying that the cancer was terminal out loud, plus people offering condolences just made the whole situation seem more real.

T.J. kept his right arm wrapped around Spinelli's shoulders as they signed out at the office near the main entrance to the school. They walked in the vague direction of both T.J. and Spinelli's houses, Spinelli growing calmer all the way, calm enough to ask in unbroken English,

"Teej, where are we going?" she looked at him. She had rarely seen him looking so serious. His mouth was a thin line, and if she didn't know better, she would think his eyes looked watery too, as if he was fighting back tears.

"I thought we could go over to my house and talk. My mom will be there, but she'll understand. She lost an aunt a couple of years back.." he trailed off. His thoughts were with Aunt Lucy again.

"Yeah, I remember Teej," Spinelli said, guilt fighting its way into her conscience. "I'm so sorry for bringing this up again, I know you were really close to your great aunt!" Spinelli started crying again.

"Don't be silly, Spinelli, you're upset and so I want to help the best way I can, even if it does mean thinking about," he swallowed loudly, "Aunt Lucy."

They walked without talk the rest of the way, the silence only broken by gentle sobs from Spinelli, and loud sniffs from T.J.

They reached T.J.'s house and T.J. knocked on the door. His mom answered, holding a bowl and a towel, which she was obviously drying. She dropped the bowl in shock when she saw the crying pair on her doorstep.

"T.J.! Spinelli! Whatever is the matter?" She threw the towel onto the floor behind her, and enveloped them both in a hug. To Spinelli, T.J.'s mom represented everything a mom should. She was lovely, a great cook, always smelt vaguely of a delicious concoction of hers, and she never disclosed any of T.J.'s secrets to his friends. She felt instantly calmer as Mrs. Detwiler led the sorry pair into the lounge. She left the two there, before wandering through to the kitchen to put the kettle on. She came back into the room with a large box of tissues. She looked sadly from one to the other. "So tell me, what's going on guys?"

"It's my grandpops!" Spinelli sobbed, snatching a tissue from the box and blowing her nose loudly, "He has terminal lung cancer!" Spinelli covered her face with her left hand, as T.J. scooted closer to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, tears gathering in his own eyes.

"Oh Spinelli. Oh sweetie, I am so sorry to hear that." She walked across the room, so that she was sat on the opposite side of Spinelli to T.J. She too wrapped her arms around Spinelli, "I lost an aunt to cancer nearly two years ago, I know how much it hurts." And she did know how much it hurt, and in a way, Spinelli thought, that helped. Not the fact that her friend's mom was in pain like she was, but that somebody could understand how she felt. She knew that her own parents could really, they just had a bad way of showing it. Nothing more was said for over an hour, the three simply sat on the sofa, crying and hugging.

After some time, the phone rang. Mrs. Detwiler wiped her eyes on a tissue, and went to answer it, her voice much higher than usual.

"Spinelli," she called through to the lounge where the two ten year olds were still sat, "it's for you." Huh? How could it be for Spinelli- she didn't live here.

"Who is it?" She asked, as she made her way to the hallway, her grief almost forgotten in the confusion.

"It's your mom, she must have known you were here." Now that Spinelli thought about it a bit harder, she vaguely remembered T.J. telling her that he was signing them both out, saying they would be at his house.

"Oh," Grief tore again at Spinelli's heart. This couldn't be good news, "Hello?" She spoke dully into the telephone mouthpiece.

"Ashley!" her mom's voice floated down the phone towards her, as unnaturally high pitched as Mrs. Detwiler's, "I think now you should come to the hospital, if you want to say good bye."

Why were these words so hard to speak? Normally she had no problem speaking, but right now, words were failing her. It seemed like hours, until she finally mustered the voice to say "I do."

With that, she hung up the telephone, and headed back on through to the lounge, where T.J. and Mrs. Detwiler had evidently just been hugging, their eyes bright, waiting for her to come back.

"Thank you very much for having me around Mrs. Detwiler, but I have to get going to the hospital," she turned from Mrs. Detwiler to her son, "Teej, thank you for taking care of me, I owe you big time."

"You're always welcome in this house Spinelli, don't you forget that," Mrs. Detwiler began, T.J. nodding vigorously, "Please, let me give you a lift to the hospital. I wouldn't want you wondering around the city so upset." Spinelli was in no state to argue, so graciously accepted the invitation, and two minutes later found herself buckled up in the back of the Detwiler's car with T.J.

"Thaddius Street Hospital, yes?" T.J.'s mom asked, making eye contact with Spinelli via the rear view mirror.

"Yes that's right Mrs. Detwiler, thank you again so much for looking after me and giving me a lift to the hospital."

"Don't mention it, Spinelli, and you tell your parents that if they need anything at all, they're to ask, and we will be there to help them out."

The rest of the journey passed in comparable silence, leaving Spinelli to think.

_A small girl with shoulder length dark hair pulled into two bunches sat on a swing in a large garden. She was wearing a long red shirt with black leggings and red boots. On her head sat an oversized red baseball cap._

"_Grandpops, when I grow up big and strong, can I be a baseball player like you?" the girl asked in a squeaky voice, looking at the kindly looking elderly man stood behind her, pushing the swing. He had the same colour hair, but spattered with grey, and his eyes were precisely the same shape and colour as his grand-daughter._

"_Ashley, you are such a smart, beautiful girl, you can do anything you want, achieve whatever you want to achieve, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!" His face wrinkled as he smiled, pushing his grand-daughter higher and higher on the swing._

"_Thank you grandpops!" the girl turned back around to smile at her grandfather, "with you as my super grandpops, I know I can achieve anything! And I will! I'm gonna be a famous baseball player! And a doctor! And a lawyer! And-" and the young girl continued to list practically every profession under the sun, much to the gentle amusement of the late middle aged man, "Will you always be here to push me on the swing?" she asked, suddenly worried, "Even when I'm a doctor!"_

"_Of course I will, my princess," he pushed her even higher, "I will always always be here for you. You are my grand-daughter and I love you very much, you must never forget that."_

"_I never will grandpops, you know I love you very much too?" she asked, whooping slightly as she reached new heights._

"_I do know, little Ashley, and I am a very lucky old man!"_

"_You're not old grandpops! Old is when you're sixty four, and your wife might not still need you or feed you, or lock the door," The old man smiled as his grand-daughter muddled up the Beatles lyrics_

"_Are you ready to jump, Ashley?" he asked. Perhaps he shouldn't be encouraging this slightly reckless behaviour in his grand-daughter, but he wanted her to remember him as the fun grandpops, who looked after his Ashley, but made sure she had fun too._

"_I'm ready, grandpops!" the little girl on the swing reached the peak, and then threw herself into the open air in front of her._

Six years later, Ashley Spinelli stood in a small hospital room. Lying on the bed was her grandfather. He looked so small, underneath that blanket, tubes running in and out of him in all directions. His eyes were closed, but flickered occasionally. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, at the same rate Spinelli would expect to experience in sleep. She gently unrolled his fingers, and then wrapped them around her hand.

"I'm here, Grandpops," she said gently, looking into his face for some sign of recognition. His eyes flickered open, but looked unfocussed. The nurse had warned Spinelli that he might not wake up, but that if he did, he would be very drugged up, and may not recognise her, "I'm here to see you grandpops." He looked like he was trying to talk, but Spinelli held up her other hand to indicate that he did not have to, "It's okay grandpops, don't talk. I'll talk," Spinelli felt a slight pressure in her hand, as her Grandpops tried to squeeze it to show he was listening, "Grandpops, you know that I stand by what I said six years ago- I love you very much?" she felt a slightly stronger squeeze of her hand here, and the corners of her grandpops mouth twitched upwards, "Also, I still like jumping off swings when they're high," she was trying to break the sad mood here, "my friend Gretchen actually fractured her wrist in the second grade, trying to copy me doing it. I got told off by the teacher, but I didn't care, because I was doing what we did best!" The tears were back, and the cold fist holding her heart in a vice grip. Her grandpops wasn't going to push her on the swing again. He wasn't going to be there to cheer when she jumped off and landed unscathed. He wouldn't be there to congratulate her when she made the high school baseball team, or when she graduated high school, or medical school. Now the loss seemed so much more real, but she couldn't show Grandpops that she was sad- that would just make him sad, and she wanted him to die happy.

"I still definitely want to be a doctor," she ploughed on, bravely, "But I hear you need really good grades for medicine, so I'm going to have to put in a lot of study time, but I'll do it, Grandpops, I swear I'll do it, for you." Some stray tears fell onto the hand she held with her grandfather. She didn't know that she wanted to be a doctor until just now, she had maintained that she wanted to enjoy being a kid, and worry about being an adult later, but if she could make sure that no other kids had to go through this torturous process of saying goodbye to a beloved grandparent, then it was what she wanted to do.

Her grandfather's eyes flickered shut, a small smile on his face. Spinelli couldn't help but smile back, even as more tears cascaded down her face.

"Smell ya later, Grandpops," She bent forward to kiss his cheek, and then tilted her head, so her cheek was level with his lips. She felt them move slightly, in an obvious attempt to kiss his youngest granddaughter back, "I'll love you for always."

"I love you too Ashley," he somehow croaked back to her as she straightened up. She gave him one last hug, squeezed his hand, and then turned her back on him to head out the door. As she did so, she heard a loud clicking noise, and the once rhythmic tone faltered into one long, drawling beep. A siren sounded above the door she was walking through, a red light flashing to alert the attention of medical professionals, and true to it's cause, a doctor and three nurses were running towards the room. Spinelli stood outside, in between her parents, hugging them both, as lots of shouts made their way into the corridor outside. After ten minutes, the various medical professionals that had accumulated in the room filed out, sombre expressions on their faces. The doctor, a beautiful young woman who could not be long out of medical school, informed them that Mr. Spinelli _had passed away, peacefully, that he would have felt no pain, and he had a smile on his face. _

**Eight days later**

"No, Ashley, absolutely not! You are only ten years old! You are not old enough to attend a funeral!" The argument was in full flow at the Spinelli breakfast table. A large stack of toast remained untouched in the centre, a cup of steaming coffee in front of both adults, and a large glass of orange juice in front of their ten year old daughter. "And besides, you have school! You've already missed two days, you shouldn't miss another!" Flo looked sternly across at her husband, who was staring vacantly into space. He had always known this day would come, but he thought it would be when Ashley had children the age she was now, "Bob, back me up!"

"Sorry, what was that dear?" He snapped out of his reverie, pulling his cup of coffee towards him.

"Ashley is not old enough to go to the funeral this afternoon!" Flo nearly shrieked, causing Bob to fumble, spilling scalding liquid over his hand.

"Geez, Flo," he walked over to the sink and rinsed his hand under the cold water tap, "I think at ten years old Spinelli is capable of making an informed decision by herself!" Ashley smiled at her father, who winked back, "And if she feels she needs to say goodbye to grandpops, then that is fine by me."

"Fine!" Flo snapped, standing up, storming towards the door, "If that's what you think Bob, fine. Ashley, dress respectfully!" The door slammed behind her, and the two heard the front door slam a few seconds later. Bob sighed, and frowned at his daughter,

"I think I upset her a little, I should apologise,"

"No, dad, you're right! We're all upset, you don't need to apologise," she was about to justify this, when her eldest brother walked into the room, eyes bleary from sleep, wearing a t-shirt and shorts.

"Morning dad, Ash!" he paused to greet his family as he walked over to the fridge to retrieve the carton of open milk.

"Good morning Jay, did you sleep well?" his father inquired politely. Jay was eighteen years old, studying Sports Sciences away at college halfway across the country, but home for a long weekend to attend his grandfather's funeral.

"Yeah, thanks pa, did you?" he asked, sitting at the table, pouring a glass of milk and reaching out for a slice of toast simultaneously. Unfortunately, his co-ordination wasn't great, and he accidentally spilt half of his milk on the table, which the cat instantly leapt onto, scattering the toast in all directions, the toast rack catching Bob square in the face.

The tense atmosphere that had been resting over the house for the last eight days was instantly lifted as Bob grumbled good-naturedly, and joked about having Jay arrested.

A few hours later, the cars arrived to drive the grieving family to the church, at which the funeral would be carried out. Many neighbours turned out to admire the beautiful hearse and coffin on display, garnished with white roses. The last thing that Spinelli remembered about the funeral was sitting in the first following car next to Jay, peering blankly through the front windscreen at the coffin of her grandfather in front.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of sad songs, weeping relatives she didn't know existed, and the colour black. Everyone was dressed head to toe in black, the tables had black tablecloths, the adults were all drinking black coffee, there were even black balloons decorating the room the wake was being held in. Eventually, Spinelli grew tired of the black, and wanted out. She cast her eyes around the room once, looking vaguely for her parents, but after not finding one, decided to leave anyway. A large bottle of whisky had just been produced, and some of the adults were already talking too loudly, and dancing in an intoxicated manner. They wouldn't miss her now.

Spinelli stepped out the front door and looked around. This was an area of town she didn't visit often, but that she was slightly familiar with, as it was the area Gretchen lived in. In fact, this street looked quite familiar. Was this Everton Way? It was! What a coincidence! Which number did Gretchen live at? Spinelli turned around to find that she was stood outside number 98, she was pretty sure that Gretchen lived in a low number house, as she remembered thinking it was funny that she lived in such a lowly numbered house considering she had the largest IQ of anyone she knew.

With this in mind, Spinelli turned left and headed down the street, it grew ever more familiar. Eventually she came to a halt outside number 6, looked in through the window, and recognised one of her best friends stood in the living room. Gretchen. At times like these, she needed a good friend- somebody to distract her from her present situation, even if it was by tutoring her in maths.

Spinelli walked up the driveway to knock on the door. Gretchen answered the door, welcomed Spinelli in, and made a pot of tea. The two girls chatted about casual matters, such as King Freddie's new hair (he dyed half of it blue), Vince's increasingly mysterious behaviour, and whether the rumours about Mrs. Finster's head being stuck in a goldfish bowl were true. The night wore on, Gretchen's parents came home and greeted the two girls, giving their condolences to Spinelli.

Eventually, Spinelli decided that she would need to head back to the Wake to go home with her parents. She thanked the Grundlers for their hospitality, and reflected on how much she really loved Gretchen as she strolled back up the street to the now exuberant celebrations, that had spilled onto the street. She had always thought of TJ as being her best friend, but when she really thought about it harder, Gretchen had always been there for her too, and right now, Spinelli felt that have a close girl friend was a good thing. She made a mental note to buy Gretchen a cupcake the next day to thank her for returning her to normality. In a way, at times like these, she just wanted to hide from the bad things in her life just for a little bit. Grandpops was gone, but his spirit would live on. _At the minute it's hard to see past the fact that he's gone, _Spinelli reflected as she approached the lively celebrations, her brother Jay was extremely merry, wearing a waste paper basket on his head, beckoning her to join him, _but I'll get by with a little help from my friends._

"Hey Ash, I bet you can't catch me whilst you've got a bin on your head!"


End file.
